Undeniable
by RainyDaysAndBlueJays
Summary: Full sum on profile. When a man from Kensi's past returns to finish what he started, she finds herself locked in a battle of wills with a past that she thought she left behind. And this time, she might not survive. KensixDeeks Slight CallenxOC.
1. Prologue: Breaking Point

**Prologue: Breaking Point**

_April 27, 2005_

_Maintown Apartments_

_Al Hillah, Iraq_

Kensi Blye had been waiting by the phone for the past two hours.

Even though she already knew that it was connected, she still checked the cords. She kept flipping the TV on and off to make sure that the power hadn't gone out suddenly and she didn't know about it. She even went so far as to check the ringer on the phone, make sure that she had not set it on silent by mistake. Her mother had done that once. She hadn't answered her calls for two days and Kensi had been frantic.

But everything was on. The volume was turned up to full ringing capacity. The windows were closed, the radio and TV off. If the phone began to ring, she would know about it. Still, it didn't.

It was a frustrating feeling, Kensi realized with barely masked anger. She hated not knowing. It was terrifying. Her heart clenched painfully as she glanced at the clock and another minute ticked by.

3:43.

Kensi squeezed her hands into fists. Her eyes flitted around the room. It was a nervous tick of hers. She was nervous. She needed to do something; get herself moving. Anything that wasn't just sitting there and staring at a phone that she was starting to believe would never ring. And if it didn't…If it didn't then she didn't know what she was supposed to do. They had never thought this far through with the plan. They only had one back up plan. And if that phone didn't ring she knew there was nothing left she could do.

There was a thump outside the door. Kensi tensed, her hand immediately moving to the gun strapped to her thigh. The sound was followed by a laugh and a few words about being late spoken in rapid Arabic. She relaxed, letting her hands rest back on her lap. For lack of anything better to do, she went back to staring at the phone. No rings, although by this point, she really didn't expect there to be.

She should really start moving. She needed to gather her things, clear out of the apartment. Then, she had to make her way to the United States Embassy and call headquarters. Surely they'd know what to do. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so lost. Either way, she had to get it together. The worry that she suddenly felt shoot through her would not do any good. Not for her and especially not for her partner. What she needed was to keep her head on straight and calm down.

She spoke to herself fiercely, knowing the mentally shouted words of comfort would help her to relax and be able to look at the situation with clear, un-biased eyes. She took a few deep breaths and glanced at the clock again.

3:50.

Right. She needed to get moving. She shut off every emotional tie that she could think of to the apartment that she was currently hiding in and kicked herself into gear. She double and tripled checked the three firearms that she had hidden on her body for ammo and then went into the only bedroom that the small apartment held. Underneath the gaudy Persian style rug that she hated, she felt for the familiar notch in the wood flooring. It was easy to find.

She pulled up the plank of wood and spotted the safe tucked neatly under it. She entered the seven digit code by memory. With a nearly silent beeping noise, the lid popped opened and she grabbed the thick bundle of papers that were inside. She snapped the safe closed and put the floor board back into place. She rolled the rug back over it and went over to the bed, grabbing the satchel that she kept underneath it.

Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, she slipped the papers inside the bag and slung it over her shoulder. She didn't bother going to the closet for any of her belongings. There wasn't time. Besides, she wouldn't need them anymore. She did stop by the bathroom and gather a few basic things. After stuffing a razor, a lighter, and some hairspray into the now full satchel, she left for the door.

Kensi never knew what hit her. As soon as her hand touched the handle, the door burst open in a hail of gunfire. Voices, loud and gruff, exploded around her, but she hardly noticed. She crashed to the floor, landing on her backside. She felt the wind leave her as her head smacked against the side of the table that was sitting right beside the door. Black spots danced behind her eye lids. Pounding filled her senses. She took a deep breath and tried to stand. In her haste to move away to cover, she failed to notice that satchel that had slipped from her shoulder or the sheaves of paper that now littered the floor.

Against the drum beat in her head, Kensi felt a hard pressure on her arm. Someone was lifting her up; someone speaking some not-so-nice Arabic words. Instinctively, she kicked out. She felt the satisfying crunch as her foot connected with bone. There was a loud shout and she was released. She scrambled to her feet, still struggling to keep her legs from buckling under her. She forced her eyes open and was assaulted with the image of three men, all masked. There heads were wrapped into turbans and she recognized the symbol on the left side of the wrapping.

Her heart stuttered to a halt. She had to get out of there.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Using it to her advantage, Kensi grabbed the gun strapped to her hip. She had fired off three shots before she even realized that she'd done it. None were kill shots, but two hit the man who had grabbed her in the leg. He went down. More bullets rained down on her. She ran, her legs still shaking, and took cover behind the couch that she had just been sitting on not even minutes before. Gunfire rammed against it. A bullet made it through the stuffing, missing her by a hair.

Kensi sucked in a breath. The firing stopped. Her face paled as the remaining two men began to speak. She didn't recognize the first voice, but the second…

Oh, God. She felt her heart hammering in her chest. It couldn't be. Not Paul. But it was. It was his Arabic. He'd never been able to pronounce his 'r' right. Kensi used to poke fun at him for it. Now, that same lisp made her shudder. She ran her hands through her hair. It was matted to her forehead with sweat. She couldn't believe it. What was she supposed to do now? Then it struck her. No wonder the phone hadn't rung.

"Kensi," someone called out in clear English. The deep, gruff tone told her all that she needed to know. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

She took a few deep breaths. Her eyes began to sting. They clouded with tears. She wiped them away quickly with a shaky hand and gripped her gun tighter in the other. A frown crossed her face, but she pushed it away into one of impassiveness. She knew that her voice reflected whatever expression she had on her face. Paul did, too. Really, Paul knew everything about her.

She didn't answer. She couldn't make herself speak. She didn't even try. The silence rang out through the room for a few long moments until finally, "I just want to talk to you. I promise that you won't get hurt. But only if you come out now."

Against her better judgment, Kensi snorted. The sound was loud enough that she knew she had no choice but to speak up. "You promise?" Her voice was rough with unsuccessfully masked hurt. "Yeah right."

"But I do," Paul said. He was using his soothing tone; the exact same one that had made Kensi let her guard down in front of him in the first place. "And I think you know what about."

"Not sure I do," Kensi shot back. Holding her gun out in front of her with one hand, she used the other to grab the other one strapped to her ankle. "Maybe you could elaborate."

Paul was silent for a minute. There was a mumbling beside him and then an angry growl. Footfalls followed, then the opening and closing of a door. Finally, he spoke. "It's just us now, Kens. Just us. Now maybe you could come out."

There was only one way out of this situation, Kensi knew. She couldn't face Paul on directly. He was huge. Besides, he'd always been better than her in gun fighting. Hand to hand, too. But he knew that. And she was pretty sure that he knew that was what she was thinking about. He knew her so well. So the only way to make it out of the room alive was to do the exact opposite of what he'd expect her to do. Kensi had never been one to hide out during a gun fight. She was prideful and took every suspect that she handled head on. She never gave up. Now, she would have to do the opposite.

She bit her lip. She needed to time this carefully. Slowly and silently, she turned. She pulled herself onto the balls of her feet, her back hunched over. Stealthily, she peaked over the top of the couch. There Paul was, just as she knew he would be. While pride was her downfall, his was his cockiness. His gun, some form of sub-machine rifle, was resting at his side, his finger nowhere near the trigger. His stance was relaxed, but Kensi knew better. He could strike in a single moment. He was fast.

She just had to be faster.

Breathing a few deep breaths, Kensi clenched tightly to both of her guns. She raised them slowly from her sides, fingers on the triggers. She tensed her legs. The adrenaline, the thrill of the fight was rising inside of her. This was when she was at her best. This was when she did her greatest work.

Not giving herself a chance to think, Kensi leaped to her feet, guns at the ready. She identified the points that she'd have to hit to cripple Paul, and squeezed the trigger. She wasn't sure how many rounds she'd fired, but when she heard the thump of a body hitting the ground, she stopped. Paul was resting on his back. The only movement he made was the slight twitching of his hand.

Heart racing, Kensi hurried over to him. She kicked the gun away from his side and bent down. She didn't need to feel for his pulse. Paul's eyes followed her around as she leaned over him. She surveyed the damage. Two shots to the right leg, one to the left. Three in the stomach. None by themselves were fatal, but together…

Kensi felt the tears blurring her eyes again. Hating herself for the hurt she felt, she turned from Paul. There was nothing left for her to do. Her only contact here was on the ground. She had to get to the American Embassy. Then, she'd think about Paul. Then, she'd wonder.

Still, as she stood to go, she turned around and asked one question:

"Why?"

* * *

><p><strong>So, prologue. I know that I have a lot of other stories in the works, but this idea kept nagging at me. this is my first attempt at an NCIS: LA story but I know exactly where I want it to go, I think. I know that this is short, but it's because it's only a prologue. The actual chapters should vary in length but will all be at least 3,000 words probably. I just needed a beginning. <strong>

**So, if anyone is interested, please review. I never dictate the number of reviews i want for a chapter usually, but I always like to when I first start a story. If I can get 5 reviews from people saying that they are interested, then I'll continue. **

**Thanks. :)  
><strong>


	2. Negative Nightmares

**Chapter One: Negative Nightmares**

It was snowing. And it was dark.

Whenever she saw darkness, Ellie Danvers knew that it was bad. It didn't come often, but when it did, it was well warranted. The snow fell in thick blankets across the parking lot. Street lamps cast a dim glow across the ice-covered gravel, creating watery-gray shadows. It did not look like a very good place to be. And she knew that it wasn't; because something bad was going to happen here.

She saw it first in flashes. The lot was empty and then it wasn't. Heavy footfalls smacked against the ground, making shoe prints in the freshly fallen snow. Then she heard it; the harsh sound of breathing, the quiet grunts as someone struggled to catch a breath. She could feel the coldness, taste the snow as it fell on her lips. It was as if she was really there. But, of course, she knew that she wasn't.

She blinked and there were two men. One was winded, bent over and sucking in air. His hands were on her knees and his legs were bowed in slightly. He reached up a gloved hand and ran the back of it across his forehead. She heard the sound as if it was a thousand bombs all going off at once. The droplets of sweat beaded against the fibers of his black gloves. He glanced behind him. His blue eyes were wild in fear. She saw images reflected within them. There was no hope; only fear and acceptance. He knew he was going to die and he knew why. And he was okay with it. As long as he got the message out.

The other man appeared out of the shadows. His face was badly scared but his hair was covered in a ball cap and Ellie couldn't see the color. She could, though, make out the sturdy looking gun in his hand. She wasn't extremely gun-savvy, but her brother was. She recognized it after a minute as a .40 caliber Glock handgun. It was the type that he favored as a police officer with the LAPD.

She swallowed thickly and watched with bated breath as he called out to the man who was hunched over. He was much smaller and, now that she saw him, she realized that he was in a military uniform. There was a name on his chest. Corporal J—

But she never got to finish the name. The man with the scared up face was saying something. He was yelling. She couldn't make out the words. She didn't think they were in English. There was no way to tell. Ellie wasn't bilingual, although her brother—who was fluent in five languages—often pushed her to learn. Now she kind of wished that she'd taken him up on that offer.

What happened next was so fast that she didn't even register it. There was the sound of a gunshot, but neither male had made any movement. She took it as what it was; a warning. Someone was going to die here. Her instinct told her that it wouldn't be the man with the gun, but her brain told her that she should never doubt the ability of a man on who was on his last leg and knew it.

It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. She saw the military man stand, pull something from his pocket—she couldn't tell what it was—and spin on his heel. There was another bang and a blur and a slash of red across her vision. But that was all she saw.

And then Ellie Danvers woke up.

She gasped in breaths of air as she bolted up from the mattress, hand pressed firmly over her fluttering heart. Her hair had come out of its ponytail and was matted to her temples with beads of sweat. Her hands were shaking and her head was pounding. Her mouth tasted of dry cotton and her face was numb. Realizing what had happened, she forced herself to calm down and take in a few deep breaths.

It always happened this way. She'd wake up as if she was drowning, heart hammering, her head throbbing in a way that she knew wouldn't go away for at least another hour; and that was with ibuprofen. She wouldn't be able to drink anything or she'd simply throw it back up so her mouth was stuck like that as well. It was the side effects of the dreams she didn't like; not so much the actual nightmare itself.

They weren't even always nightmares, but they usually were. More often than not, it was something that she couldn't stop, couldn't fix or help. And by the time she woke up, it had already happened—or would happen within a very short time frame.

With hazy eyes, Ellie looked over at the clock on the small table by the edge of her bed. Blood red numbers informed her that it was just after two in the morning. It was way too early for this. She heaved a sighed and pushed the comforter off her, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She reached down and grabbed the fluffy socks from the floor and slopped them on her feet before standing.

Living in downtown LA wasn't so bad, really. But in the winter it could get cold. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it hit bad. And that year was one of the bad ones. It was only the second day in November and already she couldn't leave the house without a thick jacket, even though it was only about forty degrees. She's never been one for the cold. It almost made her miss Florida. Almost.

Dressed only in her socks and a long t-shirt that her brother had given her one night when she'd stayed at his place, she padded across the hardwood floor, trying her hardest not to slip. That would be bad, but not uncommon. She was always slightly disoriented when she woke up from one of those dreams. It would take her a few minutes to get her sea-legs back. Which, or course, was never a good thing because it was always very urgent and she never had time to simply lay around and wait for her body to cooperate.

She grabbed the cordless phone from its stand on the living room coffee table and dialed the familiar seven-digit number. It rang four times before she realized he wasn't going to answer. She hung up and tried again. This time, it only rang twice.

"Hello?" Her brother's voice was groggy with sleep. He elongated the 'o' in the greeting as he always did when he was annoyed or had been woken up.

"James, it happened again." She didn't bother with pleasantries. There was really no need. She knew he wouldn't appreciate it.

There was silence. Then, "Where?" Through the speaker, Ellie could hear him sitting up and shifting around. She recognized the creak of the floor as he stood on it and the soft huffing noise his bedroom door made when he closed it. "Is it close to me?"

Chewing a fingernail, Ellie paced around the room. Her socked feet were silent against the plush carpet of the living room. The entire south wall was a window. She pulled opened the blinds and blinked rapidly as the city lights assaulted her vision, filling her apartment with so much light it might as well have been the middle of the day. "No."

James sighed and it was weary and it made Elli feel extremely bad that she couldn't be of more help. "What do you mean no? Where is it?"

Feeling helpless, Elli shrugged. She ran her hand through her messy hair, the locks tangling around her fingers. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. She hardly ever got a night of full rest anymore. Her body had become used to running on so little energy, but hers hadn't. "I can't explain it," she said even though she knew he wouldn't accept that. "It was a Marine, I think. And he was shot. Well, he could have been shot. Maybe he was shot." She babbled when she got nervous.

"But it wasn't it LA." She continued. "It was snowing really badly and it never snows here."

"How am I supposed to do anything about some guy who's been killed if he doesn't even live in this city?" James asked, exasperated. "I'm an officer with the _LAPD_, Elena, not the FBI. I don't have the authority to go around and investigate homicides that don't happen in my district."

Thinking quick, Ellie stopped her incessant pacing and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Marine…If he's a Marine, call NCIS." A sudden thought struck her.

"Call Kensi."

* * *

><p><strong>So...this is the official first chapter of the revamped story! I hope you all enjoyed it. Maybe a little confusing and definitely different than the previous story. Anyway, no OSP team in this one but they will be in the next one!<strong>

**Please read and review! And let me know if you like this version.  
><strong>

**Preview-Chapter 2: Strange Sensations-Kensi gets a strange call in the middle of the night.  
><strong>


	3. Cops and Robbers

**Chapter Two: Cops and Robbers**

**(I do not own NCIS: Los Angeles.)**

A pounding woke her.

Through a haze of sleepiness, Special Agent Kensi Blye yawned and sat up slowly. Her head throbbed painfully and her mouth felt as if it was filled with cotton. It took all of her strength to move her sore limbs into a sitting position. There was something heavy across her feet. Frowning, she glanced over, instantly on alert. She relaxed when she realized that it was only Monty. The dog was sprawled across the foot of the bed, fast asleep. He was on his back, his four legs in the air, moving slightly as he dreamed. He whined and sneezed.

Kensi smiled. Glancing over at the clock on the bedside table, she saw that it was just after two in the morning. No wonder she felt so out of it. She wasn't much of a night person. She preferred to wake up early and go for a run or a swim if it was warm enough—which it usually was. The sheets felt thick around her waist. She pulled them off her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Cool tile met her toes and she shivered slightly.

Kensi loved to be warm. She thrived in it. It was one of the reasons that she'd stayed in Los Angeles instead of moving somewhere else. This home, on the other hand, was freezing. Its owner liked the cold. He loved to be cold. His house was all sleek granite or pressure washed wood. While it was the exact opposite from her place, she loved it just the same. It was nice for a change of pace.

Bending over, she grabbed her robe from where she'd dropped it on the floor. She pulled it on over her night-clothes—a tank top and pair of shorts. As her home was always warm, there'd never been a problem with her lack of sleep dress.

She padded softly from the room, clutching the robe to her. She was instantly ten times warmer. She sighed in relief. Once in the hall, she could hear the soft tones of the television in the background. It was coming from the living room—her destination. The scent of coffee reached her nose the closer she got. She frowned and rounded the corner.

She smiled at the sight.

Her partner and best friend, Marty Deeks, was sprawled on the couch, snoring softly. His left arm and leg hung of the side of the surface and he was rolled into his stomach. The TV was playing some old black and white movie and a mug full of steaming coffee was setting, abandoned, on the small living room table.

Affection filled her. Kensi went over and grabbed the remote from where it was nestled under his cheek. She removed it slowly so as not to wake him and clicked off the TV. She took the mug off coffee and went to the kitchen. She dumped it into the stainless steel sink, running water and clearing out the brown with a sponge. Turning around for the towel hanging off the silver, state of the art stove, she stopped.

It had taken her a few days, but she'd become settled into the Deeks household. It wasn't very hard. She already spent most of her time there; had a drawer and a toothbrush in his bathroom. But it was different. She'd spent the night very few times. Mostly, when she did, it was because of a late case. Deeks' house was just five blocks from the OSP Center while hers was on the whole other side of town. Oftentimes she didn't want to drive all that way when she was so tired.

When she had approached Deeks about it three days ago, he'd been all smiles and welcoming gestures. He understood. He always did. She'd probably stay only a few more days. They'd wrapped the case that morning and, while that was always a good thing, not everyone had a happy ending. This had been one of the bad ones. After telling Deeks, he hadn't sneered, laughed, or made fun of her. He'd pulled her into a hug and drove her to his place. She'd been there ever since.

Hetty had given all of them the week off. They needed it, she thought. And she had been right, like always. The older woman was so wise that it was scary. She was always there, in the shadows, and she always knew the right things to say. This case had been no different, although her responses had been clipped and short mostly. Kensi was glad. She had needed that. Someone who was strong to look over her and make sure she didn't do anything stupid; like break down in front of the whole OPS Center.

"Hey."

Kensi jumped and started slightly, whipping around and placing a hand against her chest. She relaxed when she saw that it was only her partner. His eyes were hooded and his clothes and hair were rumpled, but he was there and he was frowning at her.

Although she wasn't sure if she'd woken him, Kensi was glad that he was awake then. She stepped forward slightly, hardly realizing she was doing it. "Hey."

"Can't sleep?" He asked, although his tone said he already knew the answer.

Kensi went to nod but stopped and shook her head instead. She dropped the towel back on the stove, not even realizing that she was still holding it, twisting her fingers around it. "No. Just thirsty. You left your coffee."

Deeks' lips quirked up into a smile but it fell quickly. His eyes grew distant and he moved so that he was right in front of her, looking down into her eyes. He placed both his hands on her shoulders. "It's over, Kensi. We got him."

Kensi shuddered at his touch and sucked in a breath at her friend's words. She looked up at him, marveling at how much taller than her he was. He hadn't showered and he smelled like trees, wood, and soap. His cologne was fading but it was still there. She shook her head to clear out the thoughts and pulled away. "You know you shouldn't waste that coffee. You buy the expensive stuff." She said. It was a diversion tactic.

And because Deeks knew her so well, it worked. "I have expensive tastes." He smiled at her, and this time, it stayed. He knew what she was doing and, while he didn't think it was a good idea, he appreciated and cared about her enough not to push it. She'd tell him when she was ready. She always did.

That was how things worked between them. When he'd woken up across the couch and heard her moving around in the kitchen, his interest had instantly been piqued. But that curiosity had waned as soon as he'd see the way she was wringing his dish towel between her fingers. She was tapping her right foot, which meant that she was feeling cornered and unsure. Whenever she tapped her left foot, it meant that she was thinking.

He knew all of her little ticks. He knew most everything about her. She was his partner, his best friend, the person he cared about the most in the world. It hadn't started out like that. No, it hadn't been like that at all. But things changed and so had they.

"What were you watching?" Kensi asked. She was grateful, beyond grateful, that Deeks had understood her subtle message and stopped. He had always been able to read her so well. It was one of the reasons they made such good partners.

Deeks gestured for her to follow him back into the living room. It was one of the few rooms in the house that had carpet and she was more than happy to oblige. He pushed the blankets and pillow he'd been using on the floor and sat down, patting the seat beside him. Kensi eyed him for a moment before plopping down beside him.

Neither spoke for a few long minutes. Kensi drank in the silence, just happy to be sitting with her best friend. The television played softly as background noise. She watched it, liking the way the images flashed before her eyes, taking her mind off everything that had been bothering her. All the thoughts, the things she hadn't wanted to see anymore, were gone. She forgot everything in that moment. She forgot the faces of the parents, the positions of the bodies, the cold little hands and sad looking faces of the children as they'd been laid out on the autopsy tables.

Until she didn't.

It came suddenly and with a quick rush of sadness. She burst into tears. Deeks must have sensed that this was coming, because he was by her side in an instant, taking her into his arms, holding her close to his chest. She didn't sob and shake or yell like she wanted. She just squeezed her eyes closed and let the tears slip through. She buried her face into his chest. The steady thumping of his heart lulled her into a sense of calmness.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there; Deeks holding her and her letting him. He didn't say anything. Not a single word. He didn't move to turn the TV off or shift so that he could be more comfortable. When she finally did speak, her voice was hoarse and crackly. "They were so little."

"I know."

"And they were so cold."

"I know."

"Only monsters kill children, Deeks." Lifting her head from his chest, Kensi looked her partner in the eye. Her tears were gone but her face was still wet. "Only monsters do that."

"I know."

And because he understood so well, Kensi Blye loved him.

The case had been a bad one. Cases involving children always were. But this one…she didn't even want to think about it. She couldn't even bring herself to try. She knew that she'd have to at some point. She'd have to look at the file and write up her report. But until then, until that moment, she refused to do it. Five children had been killed before they caught him. All because they were the kids of high-ranking military parents. The group, a terrorist organization, had wanted money. Once they got it, it didn't matter. They hadn't worn masks in front of the kids or in the videos they'd sent to the families. And that was how Kensi had known none of them were coming back alive.

Deeks didn't try and console Kensi through the whole thing because he knew that she didn't want that. She didn't want his pity or anyone's. She just wanted to get everything—the hurt and rage—out of her system. He could sympathize. It had happened to him more times than he could count. Some with Kensi and NCIS, some with LAPD. Either way, the end was the same.

"Do you still have Casablanca?" Kensi asked. If there was one thing she needed in a crisis, it was the old classic that was her favorite movie. Although it was such a chick film, she'd bought it for Deeks as a gag gift last Christmas.

Screwing his lips to the side, Deeks sighed. "I have it." He sat up slowly, giving her a chance to pull away. He went to the far wall where he had all of his movies stacked on the double black shelf he'd bought when he moved into the place. Thumbing through the titles, he found the one he wanted. Pulling it out, he slipped it into the DVD player and went to take a spot back by his partner.

So engrossed in the movie, neither Kensi nor Deeks heard the phone ringing back in his bedroom.

* * *

><p><strong>So...What did you think?<br>**

**I originally decided to put this chapter in just for fun, but as I was going through, I realized that it was important that I set the scene with Deeks and Kensi. I hope you all enjoyed it. The case mentioned won't come up as a main story point, but it will come up again. I hope I kept them both in character. Next chapter is when the story really starts.  
><strong>

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! Please keep them coming!  
><strong>

**Chapter 3: Solid Technique-The OSP's vacation is cut short when a marine turns up on the shoreline. Meanwhile, Ellie travels to the LAPD precinct to do some research.  
><strong>


End file.
